Chapter 18
We had both ignored warning signs because we wanted the project to survive.
Afterward, Jason had changed.
So had I.
He became obsessed with protecting the company.
I became obsessed with preventing another mistake.
Somewhere along the way, our shared fear turned into separate identities.
His answer to uncertainty became control.
Mine became silence.
Neither saved our marriage.
Eleanor continued.
“Years later, I contacted Jason about the early recall.”
“What recall?”
“One of the first rehabilitation units had a calibration defect.”
I remembered it.
A small production batch.
No serious injuries.
The company corrected the defect quickly and voluntarily replaced every unit.
“What did you have to do with it?”
“A former patient contacted me. Not because of the defect itself. Because her insurance refused to cover additional therapy after the replacement.”
Eleanor gathered several similar cases.
Patients hadn't been harmed catastrophically.
They were simply stuck between manufacturers, insurers, and hospitals while everyone argued over responsibility.
“I sent the files to you,” she said.
“To me?”
“To the company. Marked for your attention.”
I had never seen them.
“Jason called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said he would handle it personally.”
“And did he?”
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
Eleanor explained that Jason quietly established a patient-assistance program.
At first, it was funded by the company.
Later, legal counsel warned that the structure could be interpreted as an admission of liability, jeopardizing ongoing negotiations with insurers.
So Jason moved the assistance into an independent escrow arrangement funded partially from his own distributions.
The money he had moved before our divorce was intended to guarantee the program for another decade.
“He didn't steal the accounts?” I asked Daniel after the call.
“He transferred marital funds without your consent,” Daniel said. “That's still significant.”
“But he didn't take them for himself.”
“No.”
It shouldn't have mattered emotionally.
Legally, unauthorized movement of marital assets was still a problem.
But emotionally, it mattered enormously.
The story I had constructed about Jason contained too many simple sentences.
He took everything.
He never cared.
He erased me.
Some were true in part.
None were true completely.
People rarely fit inside the worst thing they had done.
A week later, Jason asked to meet.
Not through Madison.
Not through his attorney.
Through Daniel.
He wanted a settlement conference.
I agreed.
We met in Daniel's office on a gray Monday morning.
Jason arrived alone.
So did I.